


all I need to know, is that I'm something you'll be missing

by aliceinacoma



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-12 08:53:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29882091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aliceinacoma/pseuds/aliceinacoma
Summary: After the events with Madame de Pompadour, Rose, hurt and confused, asks the Doctor for a trip back home so she can sort out her feelings.
Relationships: Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler
Comments: 6
Kudos: 49





	all I need to know, is that I'm something you'll be missing

**Author's Note:**

> Let's just be honest, GITF is so frustrating cause the Doctor is wildly out of character. But I'm gonna try to make it make sense.

She exited the bathroom to find him sprawled the length of her bed, hands pillowing his head as he stared a hole into the ceiling. His gangly legs overtook the furniture, spreading just shy of the edge of the mattress. She stopped short of fully entering the room, hovering in the bathroom doorway to take him in. It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence, not anymore, to find him lying in her bed at the end of the day. They called this their “night chat,” the brief respite at the end of the day where they decompressed from every madcap adventure they’d taken on during waking hours. More than once, she’d fallen asleep to the sound of his voice recounting a story from his past, only to find herself very alone in her bed the next morning. Increasingly that was part of the pattern - or had been, at any rate, until the Doctor had taken Mickey aboard.

After the last twelve hours, she wasn’t sure what the protocol was meant to be between them.

Her skin burned as she stood there, keenly aware of the difference between the towel wrapped around her middle and his fully-clothed status, down to his converse propped up on her duvet. Every day, this felt more and more like a metaphor for what her life had become: her absolute vulnerability juxtaposed with his uncanny ability to shut down.

His eyes snapped to hers as he registered her presence, a smiling blooming across his face as he looked at her, the kind of smile that usually elicited one from her in return, often through little will of her own. It was like her entire being was pulled towards his, the way the moon got pulled into orbit around the earth. But now, lingering in the doorway, she exchanged the smile for a repressed eye roll.

“D’ya mind?” she asked, voice just shy of a snap. The Doctor’s eyebrows wrinkled in confusion until she gestured down at her state of undress.

“Oh, right! Sorry,” he said, hastily sitting up and turning his back to her to give her some semblance of privacy. Any other night, her heart might have fluttered at the move, the mere suggestion of such an intimacy between them a thrill, but staring at the back of his head now as he fidgeted with something in his hands, all she wanted was his swift departure.

Swallowing a huff, she marched over to her wardrobe and dug through her drawers for a pair of pajamas. Through it all, the Doctor remained silent, not even muttering to himself the way she’d often caught him doing since his regeneration. Even as she longed to be alone, the lack of his usual chatter disconcerted her. Losing Reinette had clearly done a number on him, andas much as it stung to think of it, her heart ached to comfort him.

Sometimes she wondered how she became such a pathetic mess, and over a man no less. If Shareen could see her now, she’d have laughed herself silly.

Dropping the towel to the ground, Rose pulled her most comfortable jumper over her head. Well, “hers” in the loosest terms, really. It had belonged to the Doctor, once upon a time, back when he was all big ears and would never have left her stranded just to go make out with some French aristocrat. It always fit her like a warm hug, this jumper - and somehow, it still smelled like him, weeks later.

“You’ll let me know when it’s safe to turn around, won’t you?” the Doctor asked now, in his accent so much closer to hers. She’d wondered about that, briefly at first, wondered if it meant something, that perhaps something was beginning between them, but now she understood: none of it meant anything, not really. If that was a bit dramatic, well, she’d had a long day.

“Yeah, you can,” she forced out, disguising any emotion that might have been in her voice as a cough. She turned to face him just as he did the same, the smile on his face more faint this time, half hesitant, half hopeful. She forced a smile of her own, though she knew it didn’t reach her eyes.

“All right?” he asked lightly. Rose didn’t move from where she stood, arms wrapped around her middle.

“Fine,” she said, clipped. “Just wanna sleep s’all.”

“Oh,” he said, frowning. “Right.” Twisting the duvet between his fingers, he said, “I thought you might want to…talk.”

A flash of anger ignited in her chest, and for a brief moment, Rose thought she might lose it at him; it would have been, she supposed, much more like her. She wasn’t one to keep her thoughts to herself, and she’d certainly never shied away from telling the Doctor off when he hurt her. But he’d never let her down quite like this before; in all the time traveling together, he’d never acted so callously towards her safety, and when she tried to form the words to explain how much it broke her heart, being left behind on that space ship, none of them seemed to be quite right. She needed to have her head on straight before she said anything to him.

Or, she mused, she just wanted a good wallow. Either way.

“Nah,” she said cheerily. “Too tired for that tonight. Sorry, Doctor.”

Briefly, something in the Doctor’s eyes flashed like an alarm bell going off, but it was gone before she could name it. Hopping up off the bed, he practically skipped over to her, halting less than a foot away.

“Well then! Sleep it is, Rose Tyler,” he said, taking her by the waist to guide her towards the bed. She threw him an odd look as he dutifully tucked her in like some sort of mother hen. “Best get your beauty sleep. Big adventure tomorrow. Well, I suppose there’s always a big adventure tomorrow.”

“Actually,” said Rose, moving into a half sit-up to lean back on her elbows. “D’ya think we can go back to Mum’s tomorrow?” The flash of alarm was back on his face at the suggestion. “I just - I didn’t really get to say hi to her last time, cause of the Krillatines and all, and I just think I could use a…break.”

“A break. Right,” he said, tugging on his ear in that nervous tic of his. “Guess it could be all right. TARDIS could always use some tinkering. Rose Tyler, your wish is my command.”

_Sure it is_ , she thought darkly, but she kept it to herself, plastering on the brightest smile she could manage.

“Perfect, thanks,” she said sweetly.

The Doctor hovered near the edge of her bed, not leaving right away. Licking his lips once, he asked, “Sure there’s not anything else?”

For a moment, she contemplated telling him the truth. The fact that he was being so thick drove her spare, but no matter how much she tried to force the words out of her mouth, she couldn’t do it. Instead, she shook her head. “Nope,” she said.

“Okay,” the Doctor said uncertainly. Then, after a moment’s hesitation, he leaned over and pressed his lips to her forehead in a quick kiss before turning on his heel and high-tailing it out of her room.

“Night then!” he said cheerily, glancing at her once before closing her door with a soft click. Rose glared after him, rolling over and bracing herself for a night of very restless sleep.

—

“London?” asked Mickey incredulously the next morning. He frowned at them as they gathered around the console, the Doctor zooming around to flip different switches, pausing just next to Rose. With a smirk, he grabbed her hand and used it to press down one of the buttons before taking off again. As soon as he was gone from her side, she rolled her eyes. He’d been doing this all morning, getting in her personal space. In fact, he seemed to be extra nice all around, having her tea prepared for her as soon as she walked into the kitchen, rubbing her shoulder when she complained about sleeping funny. She couldn’t tell whether this was a marked change in their dynamic or if she simply noticed it more now that she wasn’t reciprocating.

“Are you trying to get rid of me?” demanded Mickey. The Doctor laughed, incredulous.

“Course not, Mikey Mick,” he said as he flipped another switch. “Rose just fancies a pop home.”

Frowning more deeply, Mickey glanced between them, clearly trying to work out whether they were pulling one over on him. Rose glanced away, staring down intently at the lever she was fiddling with, but she didn’t miss the smirk that overtook Mickey’s face.

“Oh, I get it,” he said. “You two are on the outs.”

The Doctor’s head nearly snapped off, he turned so fast. “What? No we’re not. We’re fine.” He never looked directly at her, she noted, but she could tell he was watching for her reaction out of his peripheral vision. Her silence dragged momentarily as she struggled to keep the peace without flat out lying.

“Oh shut it, Mickey,” she said finally. “I just wanna see Mum, ‘kay?”

Mickey’s smirk never faltered. “Sure, babe,” he said. “Whatever you say.”

“Hold tight,” warned the Doctor, and with a flip of a switch, they were off.

—

Maybe a trip home hadn’t been such a good idea after all, Rose thought as she started in on her second cup of tea. Jackie’s chatter had been endless since she’d arrived, and though the familiar drone of it warmed Rose’s heart somewhat, she couldn’t manage to concentrate on Jackie’s actual words - and her mum was having none of it.

“What’s the matter with you, sweetheart?” she asked finally, giving Rose’s hand a squeeze. “You’re a thousand miles away. What’s himself done now?”

“Nothing, Mum,” said Rose, rolling her eyes. “I don’t know. He’s just…”

She trailed off, glancing down at her half-empty mug, the tea inside now nearly cold.

“He’s just what?” prompted Jackie. Rose sighed, setting her mug on the table in front of her.

“I don’t know,” she admitted in a murmur. “He’s just so - frustrating. I thought me and him, that we were… I thought there was something there, you know? But he’s so cryptic about everything, and then he had this whole thing with Madame de Pompadour…”

Jackie set her own mug down sharply. “He what?” she asked, angrily. “Is he messing around on you? Oh, I’ll kill him.”

Rose shook her head. “No! Mum, it’s not like that. We’re not - together, like that. Not really. I just thought, maybe… he liked me or something cause sometimes he looks at me like…” She tried to choose the right words for the look he sometimes gave her, so open and, dare she think it, devoted, but she bit her tongue, worried that naming the look might break it’s spell. Shaking her head, she said, “I don’t know, it’s stupid.”

“It’s not stupid,” insisted Jackie. “You’re my daughter. Who wouldn’t like you? And that man, Rose, he likes you even if he won’t admit it. I mean, he lights up every time you walk into a room.”

“Shut up, no he doesn’t,” said Rose, a blush blooming on her cheeks.

“Oi, don’t you tell your mother to shut up,” teased Jackie. “I’m right, I am. I spent the entire week after Christmas trying to stay out of the way of those looks. Near impossible task.”

“Really?”

“Really. Now what’s all this with this Madame lady?”

She’d been reticent to explain the whole thing to her mother - as irritated as she was at the Doctor, she didn’t really think he deserved another Jackie slap - but as soon as she started talking, it all just poured out of her: the space ship and the clock people and waiting five and a half hours. And then more: Sarah Jane and “the curse of the Time Lords” and inviting Mickey along without her express permission.

At the end of the tale, Jackie laughed. “Your Doctor. He acts like he’s so alien, but he’s really just like any other man.”

“What d’ya mean?”

“Well, he’s just scared, sweetheart!” said Jackie. “He’s scared the way all people are scared of falling in love. It’s not an easy thing, you know.”

Rose frowned, skeptical. “Doesn’t scare me,” she said.

Jackie reached over the table, brushing Rose’s hair behind her ear. “Of course it doesn’t, but I don’t think you’ve ever been scared of anything in your life, really.” Taking her hand, she added, “‘Sides, it’s different for him. He’ll be the one left behind one day, and he knows it. You heard him, he lives so long, Rose, and it hurts, being the one who has to keep going, on your own.”

Tears pricked at Jackie’s eyes, and Rose gripped her mother’s hand tighter. It was strange, having seen her mother and father when they were young. She’d always pictured them so deliriously happy together, but the Jackie and Pete she’d met in 1987 had real problems, real human issues to deal with. Maybe that, she considered briefly, was what it really meant to love someone, though: you stick around, through the real human problems.

“So, what, I’m just supposed to forgive him and move on?” asked Rose, wiping the tears out of her own eyes.

  
“Oh absolutely not!” said Jackie. “He made you a little miserable, so I say do the same to him. Give him a taste of his own medicine. That’ll put him in his place.”

“Very mature, mum,” teased Rose.

“I gave you my mature advice, missy,” her mum countered. “Now I’m helping you get even.”

—

The sun had begun its descent by the time she made her way back towards the TARDIS, where she assumed she’d find the Doctor fiddling away with some spare part. He seemed to have an endless supply of those, and an endless supply of things to say about them, no matter how much it never made sense. Not to her anyway. Mickey, though, he always nodded along like he had any clue what the Doctor was saying; he even joined in sometimes, asking questions she never would have thought to ask, and it was nice to see the Doctor light up whenever Mickey got something half-way right. As much as she’d been reluctant for Mickey to travel with them, she was secretly pleased to see the two most important men in her life finally get along.

Even if it left her feeling vaguely excluded.

The TARDIS was sat near the edge of a park, just a few blocks from her mum’s flat, and as she approached the familiar blue box, she realized she wouldn’t find the Doctor waiting for her inside. Instead, he and Mickey - and, she noted, some of Mickey’s mates - seemed to have started a game of pick-up footie in the field just ten feet away. For a moment, she lingered outside the TARDIS, watching them from afar. Seeing the Doctor look so human always threw her. He rushed up and down the length of the make-shift football field with that absolutely ridiculous run of his. He wasn’t a great footballer either, a fact that she’d had to tease him about later. Something softened in her chest as she watched him and Mickey high-five over a successful goal, and briefly she thought about ditching her plans and hopping back into the TARDIS immediately, grievances forgotten.

Before she could resolve herself to this, however, Brian, one of Mickey’s best mates, caught sight of her and waved, calling out, “Hello, gorgeous!”

The others turned and looked at her, and Rose had to applaud herself for having the foresight to change before coming to find the Doctor, because even he looked a little flabbergasted by her outfit. It wasn’t anything too special, if she was honest, just one of her old clubbing dresses, but she rarely dressed up anymore, what with all the running they did - and she was fairly certain he’d never seen her in a skirt this short.

Satisfaction turned in her stomach as she realized he was noticing.

Brian abandoned their game to rush over to her and lift her up into a bone-crushing hug. Rose squealed as he spun her around. She’d always had a soft spot for him; where some of Mickey’s friends could be sleazy, Brian was nothing but lovely.

He gently landed her back on her feet but didn’t fully let got of her as he pulled back.

“How you been then, eh? Mickey said you lot have been traveling’,” he said cheerfully.

“Yeah, ’s been a whirlwind, really,” returned Rose. “But what about you? Anything new?”

“Oh the usual,” he said. “Just got a promotion, actually.”

“What? Oh, that’s great, Brian!” Rose said, pulling him into another hug.

“Oi, miss, you’re distractin’ our best player,” said Mickey as he meandered over towards them. The game had come to a halt, the players either breaking off into their own social circles or heading over towards Rose the way the Doctor was, eyes darting between herself and Brian.

“Guess I’m more entertaining than your little game,” said Rose cheekily. Mickey rolled his eyes.

“And why exactly are you all dolled up? Got a hot date?” he asked.

“Yep,” she said with a grin. “Shareen and I are goin’ clubbing, just like the old days.”

“All right,” said Mickey, grinning. “Count me in.”

“I don’t remember inviting you,” said Rose with a roll of her eyes.

“Don’t matter, we’re coming anyway. Right, Doctor?” he said with a grin, patting the Time Lord on the shoulder. The Doctor, for his part, appeared rather taken aback.

“Oh, erm…” He glanced at Mickey before locking eyes with Rose. She kept her expression carefully neutral, holding his gaze for a brief moment before looking away. “Yes, all right. If it’s all right with Rose.”

Which was, frankly, not the response she expected.

“Great!” said Mickey before she could respond. “Come on, Brian, let’s go see if the rest of ‘em want in.”

The two boys set off across the field, and Rose glared after them, holding back a groan when Mickey turned around and winked in her direction.

She was going to kill him.

Reluctantly, she glanced back at the Doctor, whose hands were shoved deep in his pockets as he swayed back and forth on the balls of his feet. He flashed her a grin as she caught his eye.

“So, clubbing in the twenty-first century,” he said. “Never done that before.”

“Yeah,” she returned. “I, er, I know it’s not your thing, really, so, if you want to, you know, stay here and work on the TARDIS…”

She shrugged, and the Doctor stopped swaying, pulling a hand out of his pocket to rub the back of his neck.

“Right. Do you want me to do that?” he asked carefully. Rose glanced down at her feet, studying her freshly-painted toenails that peeked out of her strappy heels. What did she want? She felt pulled in so many different directions, it was impossible to sort it all out. She wanted to hit him and to kiss him. She wanted to forget everything that had happened and to never see his face again. She wanted to start over. She wanted to punish him.

This was the problem, she thought, with needing comfort from the person who’d hurt you most.

She shook her head. “Doesn’t matter. Do whatever you want.”

The Doctor nodded, his eyes searching her face like he was working out a very complicated problem. Rose bit down a scream. _It’s not complicated,_ she wanted to say. _Just love me._ But further conversation was cut short by Brian, Mickey, and Andrew making their way back over to them.

“All right, we ready to party?” asked Brian as they all set off.

The Doctor flashed her a grin, reaching out his hand for her to take.

She pretended she didn’t notice.

—

The club was packed, and Shareen, true to form, immediately convinced everyone to do several rounds of shots to get the evening going - even the Doctor took them like a champ, though he made increasingly disgusted faces after each one. Rose stifled her laugh into her own drink, refusing to encourage him.

This hadn’t been her plan. She’d wanted, in her petty way, to make the Doctor feel as insignificant as she’d felt on that space station yesterday. She’d wanted him to feel how empty the TARDIS could be without her there, while she was off having a laugh with Shareen. But instead, he was here, tagging along, making her friends laugh, all thanks to Mickey - who’d only gotten more annoying since his self-invitation.

“Just so we’re clear,” he’d said to her as they entered the club, “you’re not using me to make the Doctor jealous tonight.”

“Not really a thought in my mind, Mickey,” snapped Rose. “Since you’ll remember, you invited yourself, not me.”

“Still, just thought I’d better say it before you get drunk and have any bright ideas,” said Mickey, without any bite. Sighing, he added, “Look, why don’t you just talk to him?”

“I dunno, Mickey, maybe cause every time I try to talk he runs away,” she said with a tight smile. “‘Sides, I’m sick of talking.”

“So you’re just gonna try to make him as miserable as you feel?” he asked knowingly. “I don’t think that’s what you’re supposed to do to someone you love.”

Rose blushed. “I never said I loved him,” she said, lowly, and Mickey grinned at her, throwing an arm around her shoulder.

“Babe, I’ve known you your whole life,” he said. “I know what you look like when you’re in love.”

Was it that obvious? Rose wondered as she waited in line for her drinks, frowning across the room at the Doctor as he talked animatedly with Shareen about God’s knows what. She hadn’t exactly expected them to get on, frankly, but here they were, thick as thieves. A pang of jealousy spiked through her as the Doctor tipped his head back into a fully-bellied laugh at something Shareen had said. The pang held no real danger to it - she and Shareen had long made a pact not to fight over men - but she wished, desperately, that she could pull herself out of this funk, march back over there and join in the conversation with her usual gusto.

Instead, she headed towards the dance floor.

In the past, when she and her girlfriends had gone clubbing, a lot of the motivation had always been about meeting someone to take them home that night, but for Rose, most of the pull came from the dance floor. She loved losing herself in a club’s headiness, the way the music pulsed through her as she moved, the bodies around her changing with each new beat. Something in her came alive in her as she let a song overtake her, and pushing her way onto the floor now, she realized it was the same vibration she felt when she and the Doctor were running from some new danger or solving a mystery.

She disappeared into the rhythm, losing track of time as the beats sped up and slowed down. At some point, Shareen joined her, grabbing her by the hips to dance close enough to yell into Rose’s ear, “I like him!”

“Who?” Rose yelled back.

“Your Doctor! He’s perfect for you!” said Shareen with a giddy grin. “And I’ve never seen anybody so besotted, lucky girl!”

Rose pretended not to hear over the music.

Several songs later, she opened her eyes to find that the rest of their friends had joined them on the dance floor, even the Doctor, who, she noted in amusement, could not dance, though it didn’t stop him from trying. He flailed maybe three feet away, having earned himself a berth from the other club-goers.

It was the alcohol that did it, she’d think later, that closed the gap between them so she could stand up on her tip toes to say, “You call this dancing?”

The Doctor looked at her with an affronted expression. “Oi! Rude. This is a new body, you know. Still workin’ out the kinks!”

“I don’t think those kinks can be worked out, mate,” she teased, and the Doctor’s laugh wrung through her entire body.

Stopping his movements, he said, “I’ll admit perhaps early 21st century dancing is not my forte.”

“Is that modesty I hear coming from you? I never thought I’d see the day,” she said. Holding out her hands, she added, “Here, I’ll teach ya.”

The Doctor glanced at her hands then up at her face, cautious. She wiggled her fingers at him. “Come on, ’s easy.”

His hands filled hers, warm and always so bizarrely dry. Time Lord biology, she assumed, or at least that’s what he’d say even if it weren’t true. It was his answer for everything.

“Just more like this, yeah?” she said, moving her hips and shoulders in a sort of easy circular motion to the beat of the song that blasted through the club. The Doctor mimicked her movements, tongue peeking out between his lips as he concentrated. She tried not to noticed it too much.

“You got it!” she encouraged him. “Just keep doing like that, yeah?”

The Doctor grinned at her, a real, full grin, the kind, she suddenly realized, she’d never seen him give anyone else - and she couldn’t help herself, she grinned back. He drove her absolutely mad, and she couldn’t help it; when he grinned at her like that, she had to grin back.

He grew more confident as the song changed, and she withered a little as he drew his hand from hers - only to find them suddenly relocate to her hips as he pulled her closer until they were mere inches apart.

“What you doin’?” she asked, thrown. The Doctor raised his eyebrows at her.

“I thought - erm, I thought this was the custom,” he said. “When you were dancing with someone. To be - close.”

Rose nodded, her heart in her throat. “Yeah. Sure. Erm… it is.”

“Right,” said the Doctor. They hadn’t stopped moving as they spoke. If anything, they’d inched even closer to one another. Rose settled her hands on his shoulders, closing her eyes as she gave in to the pull between them. The Doctor’s grip on her hips tightened as his breath passed over her neck, calling up goosebumps.

“You look lovely, by the way,” he murmured.

Something inside of her broke at the words. Tearing away from him, she said, “I need some air,” and pushed her way through the crowed towards the alley door. She ignored the cries of her name that followed her, even as she knew he was hot on her tail. For once, being shorter than him had it’s perks: she disappeared into the crowd before he could catch up to her.

The wave of fresh fall air was a blessing on her skin as she stumbled into the alley. A few smokers congregated about ten feet away, but she lingered just by the door, leaning back against the cool brick to wipe away tears forming in her eyes.

He found her five minutes later in that exact position.

“You know,” he teased, leaning up against the side of the building next to her. “I think it’s generally considered rude to abandon one’s dance partner like that.”

“’S also generally considered rude to abandon someone on a space ship and swan off to 18th century France,” she snapped. The Doctor stilled.

“Ah,” he said, turning to face the same direction she was, so their shoulders nearly touched. “Are we talking about that now then?”

“I don’t know, are we?” asked Rose, more fiercely. “What exactly do you think there is to say?”

“Well, I don’t know, Rose,” the Doctor snapped back. “I sort of hoped we’d have a row about it last night, so we could move on and I could make it up to you by taking you somewhere amazing, but instead you haven’t been talking to me at all, which I have to say I dislike quite a bit more than the rows.”

Rose let out a half-huff, half-laugh. “You really think we’re just gonna move on? You left me, Doctor! Two days ago, you told me you were never gonna leave me and then you turn around and you do exactly that!”

Down the alley way, several of the smoking crew turned to observe their fight, but she couldn’t find it in herself to care as she continued, “You really hurt me, Doctor, and what’s worse is it’s like you don’t even get it. It’s like - it’s like you don’t care, and that’s not like you. It’s really not. The other you - the real you, he never woulda done that to me. He never woulda left me, no matter what.”

The Doctor deflated at her words, a frown overtaking his face. “There is no other me, Rose.”

“Really?” she asked. “Cause recently you haven’t been actin’ like anybody I know.”

Silence followed her response, and she refused to meet his eye, wrapping her arms around her middle as silent tears poured onto her cheeks. After a moment, he asked, “Do you want to stay?”

Frowning, she glanced over at him, “What?”

“Do you want to stay? Here, in the 21st century?” he asked, a well-hidden fear creeping into his eyes. “If you wanted to stop traveling with me, I would…understand.”

“God, you’re so daft,” said Rose, exasperated. “No, it’s not what I want.” Then, she amended, “It’s not what I think I want.” Chewing on her bottom lip, she glanced back up at him, his eyes wide and terrified. “Is that what you want, for me to stay?”

“No.” He said it with such immediate resolution, there was no room for Rose to argue, even in her own brain. “I always want you with me.”

“Okay,” said Rose uncertainly, her shoulders sagging a little - in relief or simply loss of adrenaline, she wasn’t sure. “Then why, Doctor? Why’d you leave me and Mickey when you knew you couldn’t get back?”

For a brief moment, the Doctor simply looked at her, eyes unreadable. Licking his lips, he said, “I don’t know.” Rose’s heart sank, but before she could say anything, before she could muster the strength to tell him to sod off, he seemed to change his mind. “No, that’s - I do.”

“And?” prompted Rose.

The Doctor sighed, leaning back once more against the wall, not quite drawing to look directly at her. “Do you know what I was thinking,” he said after a moment, “after I went back for Reinette, when I realized I was too late?” Rose shook her head, and he continued, “I was thinking about you. Or, well, more selfishly, I suppose, I was thinking about me. Me after you’re gone, and what a sad sack I’ll be. Because it will happen, Rose, one way or another. You’ll leave, and I’ll have to keep going, no matter how much I might not want to. Can you imagine it, going on without the most important person?”

Glancing up at his face at the words, she was shocked to find tears in his eyes. She’d never seen the Doctor cry before, especially not after such an intimate confession, and she nearly felt guilty that she’d pushed him to this. Before she could apologize, he turned to look at her, a grim smile on his face. “You’re right about the man I was before. He would never have left you. And I’m sorry that I’ve been - pushing you away, these past few days,” he said. “But, Rose, you have to know: I would tear apart time to keep you safe. It’s one of the big reason Time Lords weren’t keen on…”

He trailed off, glancing away.

“Keen on…?” she asked, heart beating wildly in her chest.

“Developing…affection,” clarified the Doctor, catching her eye. He sent her a half-smirk as he looked at her. “Then again, I was never a very good Time Lord.”

The weight of his words settled in Rose’s stomach, spreading slowly up into her heart and down into her fingertips. It wasn’t an outright declaration of love - she doubted she’d ever get that from him - but in many ways it was better. Intimacy wasn’t the Doctor’s strong suit, but here he was, trying his best to peel back a layer for her, if only to make her feel better. All the anger she’d felt earlier dissipated, leaving her heavy and relieved.

“I know your people wouldn’t approve,” she said finally, eyes trained on his face. “But I’d rip time apart for you too.”

The Doctor grinned, lighting up his whole face. “I have no doubts, Rose Tyler, and that is why you are Trouble, with a capital T.”

“Oh please. Pot, meet kettle.”

“No, no, if anything I’m kettle. You’re pot.”

“I’m not being pot!”

“Well, you’re not being kettle!”

She threw her arms around him by way of another retort, and he returned the hug in kind, his arms secure around her waist. More than London, more than her room at her mum’s, more than the TARDIS, the Doctor’s arms always felt like home, like there was no where safer in the world for her to be. As the hug dragged on, she allowed herself to imagine that his hug could tether her to him, keep her from age or death or injury, and silently she begged the universe to gift her the same powers to envelope him in her safety net.

“Ugh I’ve missed this,” she said into his shoulder, and he laughed. “You were right. We should have just had a row. I shouldn’t have wasted all that energy on giving you the cold shoulder.”

“To be fair, I suppose I shouldn’t have left you on that space ship, so, call it even?”

“Oh no, mister,” said Rose, pulling away and pointing a finger at him. “You still owe me at least three amazing adventures in the next week, you got that? I talkin' big, like mind-blowing big, you got that?”

“As you wish,” said the Doctor with a grin, his hand finding hers at their sides. Gesturing at the door, he asked, “Shall we head back in?”

Rose snorted. “You want to go back in there?”

“Oi, I was quite enjoying myself before you wandered off,” he said. “So typical, you wandering off.”

“But, really, you in a club in twenty-first century London,” she insisted, ignoring the dig. “Isn’t it a bit, I don’t know, ordinary for you?”

The Doctor grinned at her, squeezing her hand. “Ordinary isn’t so bad sometimes,” he said. “Especially if I do it with you.”

Rose returned his grin, tongue touching her teeth. “Suppose you could use a few more dance lessons,” she said, pulling him towards the alley door to head back into the club. “And I was really hoping to see you drunk. I feel like you’ve got a lower alcohol tolerance in this body.”

“Time Lords don’t get drunk,” he insisted, and she laughed.

“You willing to test that theory?”

He chuckled, tugging her back before she could lead them back into the club. “Rose,” he said seriously, and when she turned to look at him, she found herself with her back against the wall, the Doctor very much in her personal space.

“Yes?” she asked, weakly.

He didn’t respond, looking down at her with a tender expression and licking his lips once as if coming to a decision. With a hand cupping her cheek, he pressed his lips to her forehead. Rose’s breath hitched as his lips travelled to her cheek and then hovered achingly close over her own. She tilted her head up infinitesimally, eyes fluttering closed, and then his lips were there, covering hers softly, cautious. She sighed against his mouth, hands fisting at the front of his jacket, but she didn’t escalate, worried she might push him or scare him off. This territory was new; she wanted to let him feel it out.

The kiss lingered a few moments before he pulled away, eyes blinking open. Grinning at her, he pressed another kiss to her forehead.

“Thank you,” he murmured. “For staying with me.”

“Always,” she assured him, and she meant it.


End file.
